


Nostos

by snakeowls



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 18th Century, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, An attempt at gothic fiction, Dreams and Nightmares, Historical, Loss, M/M, Memories, Nightmares, Pining, RS Fireside Tales, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-10-17 16:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17564072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snakeowls/pseuds/snakeowls
Summary: Sirius’s life at Grimmauld Hall is lonesome and bleak until a stranger from his past returns to bring back some old memories.





	Nostos

**Author's Note:**

> Nostos, n. (Ancient Greek, νόστος) return, homecoming; return to light and life. 
> 
> My neverending thanks to my beta W who brought this story back to light and life :p

_He hears the beast sniffing under the door, taking huge huffs of breath in and out, then letting out a deep snarling growl. It slams itself against the door, and when that doesn’t work claws at the handle and bashes itself against the door again and again, growling and barking and starting to whimper in pain after each barrage. He curls himself into a ball and puts his hands over his ears to block out the sound, but it’s so loud and so close that he can still hear it through the pounding of his own blood and he knows that it will get through soon and he starts to cry. Big wracking sobs that he no longer has to keep in, there’s no point, it knows that he’s there and there’s no escape._

+++

The Blacks’ ball was the event of the year. It was so notorious, in fact, that some made the journey from as far as Edinburgh and others even left London at the height of the season in order to attend. After all, securing an invite to one of the family’s balls meant that you had truly made it in society, so one did not turn down such an invitation no matter how inconvenient. 

It was the novelty and spectacle that was the main attraction. On top of the usual lavish banquet, world class musicians, beautiful decorations and hundreds of beeswax candles lighting up the rooms, the attendees delighted in witnessing the curiosity of the estate staff and servants in attendance and being treated like kings and queens. The Blacks allowed them to attend in a hollow gesture of goodwill, when in fact dancing alongside the help was all just part of the entertainment.

It was a long summer’s night of drinking and gambling at the tables, laughing and dancing in the ballroom, and rampant debauchery in every hidden nook and cranny. Ladies in their wide-skirted Robes à la Français played coquettishly with their fans in the hope of attracting the attentions of powdered men whose wigs were almost as impressive as their yearly income. 

It was on that night that they first met. They noticed each other across the card tables before the evening properly hit its stride, while everyone was still adhering to convention and still fully clothed. The beginning of the night was always that way until the more stuffy attendees took their leave. 

Sirius wasn’t sure what made him take notice of the young man, he certainly wasn’t anything exceptional to look at, but at the same time he was completely magnetic. Tall, but not as tall as Sirius, dressed in what must be his finest clothes. It was, however, his clothes that betrayed his status, and once he got closer Sirius could see some wear around the cuffs. The young man’s long lithe fingers wrapped around his glass, fidgeting with the stem. Sirius had never seen him at the ball before, or indeed at any other society events. He certainly would have known if he had, Sirius attended them all. 

They played the subtle game of catching each other’s eye, of blushing and nods, dancing around each other long before they reached the ballroom. They struck up a guarded conversation to share names and Sirius couldn’t help but notice that Remus introduced himself without title, once again confirming his position. The conversation continued as they felt each other out with words to see if the glances had been read correctly, before moving onto casual touches which in reality were anything but casual. 

“Have you visited Grimmauld Hall before?” Sirius asked as he waved his hand to gesture around the opulent room and cocked his head to the side at Remus who laughed.

“I have, my lord. I tend to the gardens.”

“I had noticed that they were looking particularly fine recently. Have you seen the sculpture gallery?” When Remus shook his head no, Sirius grinned. “Oh, you simply must see it, there is one piece that I think you will find very moving,” Sirius smiled, before placing his hand lightly on Remus’s forearm. “It’s exquisite.” 

“Oh yes, I would love to see it, my lord,” Remus covered Sirius’s hand with his own and gave it an encouraging squeeze. “Lead the way.” 

However, they didn’t take much notice of the sculptures and instead took their delight in kissing and very definite touches and licking and sucking and fucking, then afterwards continued with an evening of abandon and the beginning of it all. They drank and danced and watched the fireworks at midnight and drank some more until the sun rose the next day, and although Remus had to leave Sirius’s bedroom to work, much to Sirius’s pleasure their liaison did not end there. 

They met secretly over the next couple of weeks and captured as many moments as they could together, Sirius quickly tumbling head over heels. He was supposed to be working with his father, learning about managing the estate, but his mind instead wandered to thoughts of a precocious young man with tawny hair, hazel eyes and a lopsided smile throwing his head back and laughing as he lit up the room and Sirius’s life. 

There were clandestine meetings at dusk where Remus would bring him strawberries from the garden patch and Sirius would shower him in kisses in return. Sirius would sneak Remus into his rooms under the cover of night, but Remus would always be gone by the morning.

It was going so perfectly until the meetings became less frequent, Remus became more withdrawn and then one day when Sirius went to enquire after him he was told by the head gardener that Remus was gone. It was all gone. 

+++

Twelve years later

Sirius looks out of the window, desperate to find something to distract himself from the thought of the man sleeping in the servant’s quarters above. But there is nothing, just the same desolate landscape that he has stared at for the past five, ten, who knows years since he inherited the estate and let it fall into disrepair. What were once beautifully maintained gardens are now overgrown hedges and bracken and heathers from the moor that have slowly crept in to reclaim the land. 

He barely sleeps and instead forces himself to stay awake until his body eventually gives in and lapses into short fits of unconsciousness. Anything longer than that and the nightmares come, and he does everything in his power to avoid that. The same recurring dream of the beast stalks him; lies in wait until he lets his guard down and rests. He spends most of his time looking out of the window, or when it becomes too dark, rattling around the house. But even that is too much sometimes when seeing the rooms with their furniture covered by dust sheets cause the memories of Before to creep back in. 

When he finds himself in the drawing room he remembers the days when the house was busy with an almost constant flow of visitors, entertained by his mother. He sits on the bench in front of the harpsichord that he no longer dares to touch and remembers how it felt when Regulus returned home from school and there was that extra glimmer of light in his life once again. 

His mind wanders further and back to when he and Regulus were children and Father was home. Their favourite game was to escape from the clutches of the governess, sneak into Father’s study and hide under his vast writing desk while Father pretended he couldn’t hear their giggles, eventually giving the game away when he whispered with a wry smile, “Hush boys, you don’t want your mother to find out that you’ve upset Miss MacLeod.” 

Sirius watches from the window as the light begins to fade, the nights drawing in earlier and earlier as the days creep towards winter, and waits for Kreacher to let him know once his unexpected visitor is awake. The fire in the library is beginning to peter out and the candles need to be lit, so, although he can’t usually stand the sight of him, he hopes that he sees Kreacher soon.

The only room that Sirius keeps open these days is the library, and insists that the fire is stoked day and night, much to Kreacher’s displeasure. Sirius has no idea why the old hunched servant is still around when everyone else has gone. Everyone always leaves. But Kreacher stayed, despite his hatred of Sirius, grumbling about how horrified my Lady would be to see the state of her house, and that Master Regulus should be there. Kreacher had always been there and his family had always served the Blacks, Regulus used to say that he was as much part of the house as the chandeliers and staircases, so maybe that was why he was still here. Sirius tries not to dwell on it.

It is dark and the fire is down to a soft orange glow by the time that Kreacher shuffles into the room. “You’ve been neglecting the fire,” Sirius speaks curtly, not turning round to look at Kreacher while he admonishes him. “How is he?”

“Alive.” Kreacher’s voice creaks as if he hasn’t spoken for a while, and then he coughs, a big chesty hacking wheeze.

“Is he awake?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Feed him and send him to see me once he is finished.”

Kreacher grumbles, then shuffles to leave, and on hearing him Sirius whips round and throws his book towards the open door. “Fire! What did I say? You have one simple task and you can’t even do that!”

Kreacher looks over at him with a badly hidden sneer and bows deferentially, “Yes, my lord.” He picks up the book and places it on the side table next to Sirius who snatches it back and slumps down in his chair. 

+++

_The fear is the worst part. He tries to ignore the green and gold of his banyan quickly turning to red as the blood seeps out and through. He wants to scream and shout and wail, but knows that he can’t. He’s breathing fast, hyperventilating as the panic sets in. He’s locked the door and wedged himself between the bookcase and reading chair, but he knows that it’s no use. He hears a thud in the hallway outside and claps his blood-soaked hands over his mouth to stop himself from making a noise, but can’t help letting out a whimper. The thuds get closer and his heart pounds faster and his brain screams move move get out but he knows that he can’t, and it’s definitely the fear that is the worst part._

+++

Sirius is staring into the fire, his thoughts lost in memories while he watches the flames dance. He’s pulled out of his daydream when he hears a soft knock on the door before it creaks and his visitor enters. 

“Hello? Kreacher said that I was to come and see you, my lord?”

“My lord,” Sirius scoffs and stands from his chair. “I thought that we would be well past that, Remus.”

“You remember me?”

“Of course I remember you. Why would I not?” 

“I wouldn’t expect you to, my-” Remus pauses. “I just thought that you wouldn’t. It has been a while. Since I left. I’m sorry I-”

“Has it.” Sirius cuts Remus off and looks at him, finally allowing himself to take in the sight of Remus from head to toe. He is much as he remembers him, he thinks, except his brown hair is now showing signs of silvering and he is far leaner than before. His clothes are shabby and show signs of repair, carefully looked after despite their age. He still has that same sparkle in his eye, however. Sirius can still feel Remus’s magnetic pull dragging him in, and his mind momentarily flickers back to that summer, but he quickly he wills himself to push those thoughts back deep down inside. Instead of giving in he frowns and asks, “Why are you here?”

“You asked me to be here,” Remus smiles coyly, then stops when he realises that Sirius does not appreciate the humor. “I came back north to look for work. I was attacked on the moor, you found me.” He pauses, perhaps expecting a response from Sirius but receives none. “Thank you for helping me, I had nowhere to go.” He stops again and his shoulders sag slightly when Sirius still doesn’t say anything. “I’ll be on my way now.” He nods his head to Sirius in a bow and turns to leave.

“Stay,” Sirius speaks and Remus turns back to face him. “You can work here.”

Remus’s gaze flicks over to the window before he looks back at Sirius, a little shocked and confused. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.”

“Ok. Thank you.”

“I’m tired, I need to rest for a while,” said Sirius, dismissing Remus. “Find Kreacher, he will tell you where to begin.”

+++

_The door splinters and in a few more hits the wolf is through. It pushes itself through the broken door panel, but doesn’t attack straight away. Sirius risks a peek to see the wolf’s hulking form standing in the doorway, its tawny fur streaked with blood. He doesn’t know if the blood is his own or the wolf’s, but he doesn’t think it matters. The wolf pauses and snarls, baring its yellowed teeth, then stalks slowly towards him. He can feel the warm stench of its ragged breath against the back of his hands as he covers his face. It sniffs him and then strikes._

+++

Sirius notices the garden slowly change over the coming days and weeks as Remus tackles the overgrown hedges and beds of weeds. He watches from his window as Remus works tirelessly through the pouring rain and howling wind, and thinks about how, as Remus tugs and pulls away the overgrowth he can slowly feel the same being removed from himself. Remus’s presence back in his life has lifted the fog and for the first time in a long while he feels almost hopeful.

At the end of each day he welcomes Remus to warm his weary bones by the fire in the library. Remus appears to enjoy spending time in the library, taking a great interest in the books that Sirius recommends to him. Whether Remus is just trying to placate Sirius, or he is genuinely interested in the stories, Sirius isn’t sure. 

What started off as silence is moving towards stilted conversation, mostly about the garden or books, but increasingly snippets of their own thoughts and feelings and lives slip through. 

When Sirius learns that Remus has spent the intervening years moving around the country from job to job, following work available in the seasons he questions why Remus doesn’t just stay in one place. Remus claims that he has always felt restless and enjoys the freedom that comes with his life. Sirius thinks that perhaps he just hasn’t yet found something worth staying for. He wants to ask Remus if this is the case, but fears the answer.

One night Sirius wakes to find himself in the drawing room. He has been sleepwalking and dreaming of the wolf again and come to confused and scared as usual, but this time Remus is there when Sirius jolts back to reality. 

“Shh, it’s ok, you were dreaming.” Remus reaches out to touch Sirius’s arm in reassurance, but Sirius shies away, avoiding the touch.

“What are you doing here? Were you following me?”

“No, I was asleep. I heard you and found you here.”

Sirius’s stomach sinks, knowing that he must have been screaming. “I’m fine, it was just a dream.” He moves towards the door, pauses for a moment and turns back to Remus. “Shall we take a walk?”

Remus picks his lantern up from the floor and makes a show of bowing to him, much to Sirius’s amusement. Remus seems pleased to have made Sirius’s mood lift and smiles back. “Lead the way”.

Together they walk from room to room along the house’s long hallways, the light of the waxing moon shining through the windows where Kreacher has neglected to close the shutters and draw the curtains. Sirius is grateful for this oversight, however, it gives him an opportunity to snatch glances of Remus in the patches of pale half-light as they walk in comfortable silence. 

As they move through the house the light of the moon illuminates faded tapestries and mottled frescos that were once so vibrant but are now shadows of their former selves. They pass portraits charting the history of the Blacks who had cared for Grimmauld Hall for centuries before Sirius. The row of portraits ends with an oil painting of his mother, the last to leave, but Sirius quickly pushes that thought away.

”You look like her,” says Remus, lifting his lantern up to illuminate Sirius’s mother’s haughty beauty. The light catches her pale skin, rouged cheeks, black hair pinned high and a knowing look in her eye.

”More’s the pity,” Sirius scoffs.

They find themselves in the sculpture gallery, and Sirius looks over at Remus to catch him smirk. He remembers the last time that they were here, but the circumstances have rather changed now. Sirius can tell that Remus is also remembering, and he comes to a stop beside a marble statue of a reclining man and idly traces his fingers over its lips. “Exquisite.”

Remus bows his head and smiles, Sirius can’t tell by the lamp light if he is blushing or not, but he secretly hopes that he is. He sits on one of the benches and gestures for Remus to join him, which he does. Remus is sitting so close, it would be easy for Sirius to reach out and touch him. To take his hand, bring it up to his mouth and give each of Remus’s hedge-scratched knuckles a healing kiss. To slide closer until they are pressed thigh-to-thigh, then pull himself up to sit astride Remus’s lap and rake his fingers through that fine soft hair. But he doesn’t.

They sit in silence for a while, enjoying each other’s company and the crackle of everything unsaid between them in the air. 

That is, until Remus speaks. “I loved you once, you know.”

“And I loved you.”

“Do you still?”

“You can’t ask me that.” Sirius stands and pulls his banyan tight around himself like a shield. “You should get some sleep. You have work to continue tomorrow and I don’t wish to keep you up any longer.”

Remus looks up at him, dejected, and starts, “I’m sorry, I-” 

“Good night, Remus.” Sirius cuts him off and leaves the gallery. He forces himself not to look back at Remus, even when he hears him sigh and whisper, “Good night.”

+++

_His limbs fight against the wolf’s attack, kicking at its face, its paws, its belly. He isn’t sure why he is fighting, he just is. The wolf is tearing at his arms and legs, sinking its teeth into the meat of his thigh to pull him out from his hiding place, then shaking him like a ragdoll as his body starts to go limp. He catches the wolf’s eye, almost yellow against its brown fur, and can sense its lust for blood. “Please,” he whispers. “Please…” He doesn’t know if he is pleading to be spared or begging for the wolf to just rip his throat out and be done with it._

+++

Sirius paces in front of the window and finally admits to himself that he is worried about Remus. Around four weeks have passed since Remus came back into his life and Sirius thought that they had become closer, despite their conversation in the gallery. He tells himself that they have become friends, but knows that it’s something much more.

He is concerned that Remus hasn’t been up to join him in the library for the past few days, as had become their welcome routine, but instead going to his bedroom after his day’s work and not leaving his room again until morning. Sirius knows this because he followed him one evening and listened through the door, hearing Remus as he shuffled about, washing and dressing for bed, the noise eventually turning to soft snores.

Sirius doesn’t understand why Remus is avoiding him and wonders if they haven’t resolved the evening in the gallery after all. He shouldn’t have led Remus there and brought up their time together. That isn’t him any more, that was the old Sirius. The Sirius from Before.

So Sirius does what he always does to distract his mind from his thoughts and wanders the house, instead filling his head with reminiscences. His mind is always at its happiest when it thinks back to the past. He drifts through the sparse unlit rooms. It is a gloomy day outside, but there’s no need for a candle as he knows this well-trodden path by heart. He ignores the cold in the large draughty rooms and finds that these days he can’t really feel it anyway. 

Sirius is in his father’s study when he hears movement downstairs. He sneaks to the hallway and hovers at the top of the staircase, hoping that it is Remus. He hasn't seen him all day, thinking that perhaps he has moved on to a different part of the garden, around the other side of the house and out of view of the library window. Or perhaps Remus is still just avoiding him. 

He listens and thinks that he can hear the front door open, and rushes to his window to see Remus moving hurriedly towards the moor.

Sirius watches him for a while as he rushes away towards the west. Perhaps Remus is sneaking off to go and meet someone. Maybe he struck up a conversation with someone in the village, found out what they had in common, shared a laugh and a smile and arranged to meet up. Of course Remus would be looking for someone else, he would want somebody like the old Sirius, someone vibrant and bright.

A fit of jealousy comes over him and Sirius decides to follow, rushes down the stairs and starts in the direction that Remus was headed. It has turned dark by the time he notices a light up ahead, a candle flickering in the window of the old bothy and heads straight towards it. Remus must be in there, his clandestine meeting arranged far away from the house so that Sirius wouldn’t find out.

As he approaches the light goes out and Sirius thinks that Remus has caught him, has noticed him snooping. He braces himself for the inevitable fight, already going over the argument in his head until he is interrupted by a heart-stopping scream.

He runs towards the bothy, stumbling over rocks and clumps of heathers as he goes, and bursts through the door to see Remus naked and hunched on the floor. He stands in the doorway and looks on in disbelief as Remus lifts his head up to stare at him. He sees the hazel of Remus's eyes has turned yellow, and they widen in shock as they see Sirius.

“Sirius! No, get out! Quickly, move, go!” Remus shouts, but Sirius doesn't move. Remus is shackled to the wall and Sirius looks around to see if whoever did this to Remus is still there. "Please," Remus doubles over and screams in pain, "Go _now_!" 

But still Sirius finds that he can't move. His legs are simultaneously about to give way underneath himself and also stuck to the floor. 

Remus unleashes an almighty scream before his skin rips inside out and then in his place instead of Remus there is a wolf. A huge wolf with yellow eyes and tawny brown fur and it's a wolf that Sirius has seen many times before. 

The wolf looks at Sirius, its gaze meets Sirius's and he sees nothing of Remus left there. The wolf’s hackles are up and it sniffs towards Sirius before starting a low, rumbling growl. Suddenly, it lunges and snaps towards Sirius’s face, it is so huge that on its hind legs it would tower above him. Sirius pulls back and brings his arms up to cover his face, waiting for the onslaught of teeth and fur and pain, just like he's experienced in his nightmares so many times before.

Except this time the wolf does not strike. It wrenches itself free from the shackles on the wall and bursts through Sirius, past the door and out into the night. 

+++

_Dying seems to take an awfully long time, but its sweet embrace comes for him in the end._

+++

Sirius collapses into his chair in the library, his ears ringing and his heart and head both pounding. He tries to make sense of what has just happened; what he has just witnessed. The light of the full moon streams through the window and all that he can see is that horrendous moment when Remus disappeared and the creature burst forth to take his place until suddenly the past all comes crashing back. 

Like a wave smashing against the rocks in a storm, the memory floors him and he sinks deeper into the chair. He remembers that night. He sees it so clearly, like one of his nightmares, but he has never seen this part before. He curls himself into a ball, legs huddled up to his chest and starts to cry as the lost memories flood back in. 

He remembers being in his room and hearing the wolf howling outside on the grounds. He spotted it in the gardens, silhouetted in the moonlight, and in his youthful arrogance grabbed his shotgun to go and scare it away. But it wasn’t an ordinary wolf and the warning shot did nothing but anger it further. He didn’t have the time or shot to reload, so he dropped the gun and ran.

The wolf tore across the garden and followed him into the house, caught him in the hallway and tackled him to the ground, snapping and ripping at his clothes and flesh until Sirius grabbed the heavy poker by the fireplace and swung it in defense, stunning the wolf for long enough to allow him to scramble away and up the hidden servants’ staircase, dripping a trail of blood behind him.

He knows the truth of it now. His nightmares are real, his pain and suffering was a reality. He is dead. The wolf killed him and now he knows that the wolf is Remus.

+++

He doesn’t know how long he has been asleep when he wakes to find a note left by Kreacher on his side table, giving him the news that Remus has been found and has been left in his room. Thankfully, for once, his sleep was not marred by nightmares and dreams, only darkness. He isn’t even sure if he can call it sleep any more, perhaps only ‘not being’.

Sirius goes upstairs to the servants’ quarters and watches Remus sleep. He looks so peaceful, lying on his side with his face half-buried in his pillow and his mouth slightly open. His body looks relatively unscathed from what Sirius can see, only a few scratches and bruises, and Sirius marvels at what that body has just been through. He has had plenty of time to mull over what happened the night before, and he still isn’t sure exactly how he feels about it, but he knows that he wants to be near Remus. Be there for him when he wakes, like when Remus was there for him when he woke from his nightmare.

He takes the blanket from the bottom of the bed and drapes it over Remus. He can’t help himself and touches his hair, pushing a stray curl away from his face. He remembers touching that hair before, back before all of this happened. Softly, he runs his fingers through the waves and allows himself the memory.

The touch causes Remus to stir from his sleep, then he comes to at once and Sirius pulls his hand away and steps back from the bed.

Remus looks around the room, the low afternoon sun dimly struggling through the small windows, and recognises where he is. His gaze comes to rest on Sirius and he sits up gingerly. “You were there,” he whispers, as if unable to believe it. He clears his throat and speaks, “Thank God you’re safe.”

“Yes, safe,” Sirius replies. He pulls a rickety chair over from the corner of the room and takes a seat next to the bed.

Remus rubs the sleep from his eyes, then suddenly comes to and looks shocked and confused. “You know what I am... Why are you helping me?”

Sirius smiles with what he hopes is a look of reassurance. “I don’t know, I just am. Lie down, you need to rest.”

Remus looks at him for a moment, perhaps a little uncertain as if all of this is just a trick, before he lies down again and shuffles down underneath the blanket. 

Sirius watches him as he sleeps. He can tell the moment that he falls into it, when his features relax slightly. The furrowed brow unknits and his lips slightly part. It’s not too long until his breathing changes and he’s in a deep sleep. Sirius hopes that his dreams are kind to him.

As Sirius watches he wonders if Remus knows what the wolf did to him. He thinks surely not, but maybe he doesn’t know him well enough. No, the Remus that he knows, the soft, bright, caring man who brings him cuttings from the garden and explains how to make them grow, doesn’t have that cruelty in him. That Remus would never come back to him if he knew what had happened. Why would he? 

The doubts still creep in, however. It is true that sometimes he isn’t sure what Remus is thinking. He can be so hard to read, but now the well cultivated guard that he keeps up all makes sense. His years of moving from place to place, never tying himself down anywhere or to anyone to keep himself safe from those who would condemn him for his affliction. 

It is beginning to get dark outside when Kreacher comes into the room to stoke the fire. Sirius is always loathe to see him, but at this moment particularly so. The past few hours of thinking and realisations have brought questions that he needs answered.

“Kreacher.”

“My lord.”

Sirius pauses, telling himself to remain calm and keep his voice down so not to wake Remus. “Did you know? About what happened to me?”

“I know everything that happens in this house, my lord. It is my duty to know.”

Sirius ignores the sarcastic tone in Kreacher’s voice and continues, “But did you know I am dead? Do you know how?”

“Yes, my lord,” is Kreacher’s only reply.

Sirius pauses again to take stock of this revelation and pushes that welling anger back down. “Where are my family?”

Kreacher takes his time before answering and Sirius can feel his delight in having the upper hand, the wretched old man that he is. Kreacher pokes the fire and eventually says, “Dead, my lord,” he glances over at Sirius and sneers. “Your death took a heavy toll.” 

“Why did you not tell me?” Sirius fights to keep his voice hushed, “You have allowed me to exist in this house for how long? You’ve watched for years as I’ve been wracked with nightmares and guilt and loneliness and you just stoked the fires, dusted the furniture and said nothing.”

“Your feelings are none of my concern. I serve the house, you just happen to still be in it, more’s the pity. Especially since you brought this animal into our great house, Lord and Lad-”

Sirius cuts him off and darts from the chair over to the fireside, looming over Kreacher as he stands hunched in front of the fire. “Quiet! Don’t dare speak about Remus like that. Remember your place, Kreacher.”

“My place is not to harbour a murderer.”

“The _wolf_ killed me, it was not Remus,” Sirius snaps, “They are not one and the same. I don’t blame him so neither will you. I may be dead, but I am still a Black and you will obey me.”

“Oh God…”

Sirius whips round to look over towards the bed and sees Remus sitting up, his face as pale as the moonlight. Sirius is in no doubt about how he is feeling. He looks devastated, ripped apart and left with far more damage than the wolf could ever do.

“I didn’t know. I swear, Sirius, I didn’t know… I’m so sorry. I can’t be here, I can’t do this.” Remus scrambles to untangle himself from the blankets, grabs his shoes from the side of the bed and heads hurriedly out the bedroom door. 

“Don’t…” Sirius starts, goes to stop him, and then doesn’t. 

Kreacher smirks and Sirius is alone again.

+++

Life for Sirius returns to normal. The nightmares still come, but now they make far more sense, and he spends his days alone, drifting in and out of consciousness and being. He knows now that he does not live, but merely exists, and wonders what he would give to have company once again but knows that it is not to be. His family are dead and Remus is gone, the house and his own memories are all that he has left.

Sirius sits in his chair and stares out of the window, across the gardens and over to the moor. He sees a lonesome figure appear through the mist in the distance, no doubt a weary traveller or perhaps another lost soul like himself. If he comes to the house Kreacher will deal with him as he always does, instructed by Sirius to send them on their way.

He watches as the figure comes closer, striding purposefully through the reeds and heathers, every so often jumping to avoid the more boggy patches of terrain. All of a sudden something clicks in his brain. Could it be? He sits forward in his chair as if that will afford him a better, closer view. Yes, he recognises that gait, he’s watched Remus out in the gardens and walking on the moors from this window so many times before that he knows that it has to be him. He watches, almost unbelievingly, as Remus enters the grounds and cuts across the gardens. Sirius’s heart leaps and he jumps from his chair.

He rushes through the house, down the grand staircase and towards the front door in time to open it to find Remus standing before him. They stare at each other in silence for what seems like an eternity. He’s trying to read the emotions on Remus’s face, but it’s all so difficult and they have so much history left unsaid and he doesn’t know what Remus’s return means but he has to say something so what comes out is, “You came back.”

“I did.”

“I’m glad.”

Remus’s face bursts into a smile and he laughs, his shoulders sagging as his body visibly untenses. “Good.”

Sirius offers his hand out to Remus who takes it, and together they walk through the doorway and into the house.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :)
> 
> Edited 25/03/2019.


End file.
